


Show me a hero and I'll write you a tragedy

by 2sides_merlinarthur



Category: DCU (Comics), Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Death, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-18 23:44:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20321506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2sides_merlinarthur/pseuds/2sides_merlinarthur
Summary: Damian/Jon. Happiness up until a death in the family.





	Show me a hero and I'll write you a tragedy

‘As much as certain uneducated hick people like to promote Kansas due to the repertoire of the dull yet classical movieThe Wizard of Oz and the overwhelming amount of farmland, it is not all that they make it seem. It is dull, boring, and a largely uneventful state no matter how much they may endorse it. Hamilton, Kansas, is the worst part of this disgusting state. All that is around there are cattle (which, in all actuality, I do not mind, as long as these hicktown farmers understand that they are to be treasured not eaten), flatlands, and the occasional farmhouse. At one of the said farmhouses I met a small child, much to my chagrin, the child of Superman, alias Clark Kent, husband of Lois Lane-Kent. His name is Jonathan kent, and he is the most impulsive and irresponsible child I have ever had the displeasure of meeting. He has no control over his powers, at least, the ones that he does have, and he shows a lack of respect for his obvious superior. I recommend that we terminate or at least dampen his powers immediately as to avoid future conflicts with the child.’ Damian saved the document and sent his full report over to his father, ensuring that he would read it and listen to what he had to say about the matter of the so-called ‘Super-boy’.   
“Damian! Come on, Bruce went out on patrol with Tim; said he had a ‘important matter to attend to’. You know what that means?!” Dick, Damian’s oldest brother, cheered, hardly knocking as he nearly kicked down Damian’s bedroom door about a half-an-hour after Damian had sent his report to his father.  
“Please enlighten me, Grayson. I am sure that the breaking down of my door will be something that Pennyworth will be most pleased to hear about.” Damian responded without turning from the page in the Dickens book he was engrossed in..   
Dick pouted, and responded, “Oh, come on, Dami. I did NOT break down your door, so Alfred won’t have a problem with it. Besides, we’re getting the band back together! I’m suiting up, and Bruce left explicit instructions that you were to listen to me and follow everything I have to say. Oh, and there’s a surprise for you downstairs. Hurry up or you’ll miss out!” With that, he quickly left, mumbling about ‘how excited’ he was that ‘Damian had a new friend.’  
“What the hell...?” Damian grumbled, shutting the computer’s lid and stalking after Dick. After going through one of the many secret entrances to the Batcave, he heard voices as he got closer to the case that stored his uniform. He quickly hid in the shadows, and saw Dick conversing with-- the child.  
“So…. Mr. Wayne-- I mean, Batman, is ok with this? And my dad is too?”  
“‘Course, Jon. Besides, I’ll be there to make sure that Damian doesn’t try and kill you or anything.”  
“He’d… do that?”  
“I shouldn’t think so, but you could ask him yourself!”  
Damian jolted back to Dick’s laughter, then came out of the shadows glowering. “What did you want now, Grayson? And why is he here? Did Father not read my report?”  
“Oh, he read it. He just thinks it would make a good… team building exercise. Those can never hurt!”  
“Yes, Grayson, they can. I’m still insulted he didn’t think I could handle myself against the Teen Titans. Your ex-lover should not be leading that rag-tag team of so-called heroes. Half of them could barely throw a punch!” Damian stated, stalking right past Jon and to his case, pulling out his uniform and beginning to suit up.  
“Woah, Damian. All that’s happening here is a simple team-up. I’m gonna be there just to oversee and to help if necessary. But it’s basically just going to be you and Superboy. JUst like a Batman and Robin team up!” Dick grinned at him, and Damian glared back silently.  
“Umm.. Do I get a say? I mean, not to be disrespectful, but I’m a part of this team up too, Mr. Nightwing.” Superboy said, glancing up at Dick and then back down at his (Damian scoffed) scuffed red converse.  
“Ok, Jon, you can call me Dick, or Nightwing. Not Mr. Anything, ok? Calling me Mr. makes me sound old, and I am not old! And relax. Of course you get a say! But your dad already approved it, and he and Batman just want to try it out just this once. If it doesn’t work out, we’ll never ask you about it again, and you can keep training with your dad. Sound good?”  
“Sounds alright to me. What’s your thoughts, Dam-- I mean, Robin?” Jon said, looking hopefully over at Damian, who rolled his eyes and let out a “tt”.   
“Fine. But if it does not work out, and I am positive it will not, we will be finished with the absurd idea of a team-up. Clear?” He said, glaring at them both.  
“That’s… what I just said, but ok. Once Robin’s ready, we’ll get a move on.”

Minutes later, Robin and Superboy were embarking on their first ever team up. Superboy couldn’t stop grinning, and Robin couldn’t stop sulking as Nightwing followed them around like a guard puppy. “Come on, guys, lighten up! Just because the streets have been unusually quiet doesn’t mean that this time has been a failure! You guys still got to hang out!” Dick smiled down at them as he jumped in front of the two of them.  
“Nightwing. You are behaving as a child would. Act your age.”  
“Act your own age!” Dick shouted, and stuck his tongue out at Damian.  
“I am.” Damian said, sighing, as Jon and Dick giggled behind him. “In fact, I am--”  
“Wait! I need you to be quiet, please, Robin. I think I can hear something.” Jon quickly shushed Damian, who simply huffed in return. Miles away, the Riddler had decided to hold up a group of wealthy people by asking impossible riddles and expecting them to answer them or ‘suffer the consequences’. “Dam-- I mean, Robin! Come on, we’ve got a bad guy to stop!” Jon shouted, scooping up Damian in a bridal carry and leaping to a rooftop four away from the one Dick was left standing on.   
“Superboy! Release me at once! I can keep up with you just fine without your so-called assistance!” Dick distantly heard Damian shouting as he followed them. As he landed next to them, Damian was shoving Superboy away, muttering under his breath in Arabic, “sabia saghir tafih ghaby (stupid insignificant little boy).”  
“Damian! I don’t know what you just said, but I know it wasn’t very nice. Apologize before--”  
“Before what? Before you tell my father? Like he would care; he just wants me to stay out of his way. I am not going to become a carbon copy of him; I am choosing to become my own damn person. You cannot force me to like anyone I do not wish to, and you cannot make me do anything I do not want to do.”  
“Actually, Bruce left me in charge, which means you’re grounded. Go home. Now. Jon is gonna stay the night with you, and you guys need to learn to get along. Damian, one day, you’ll be joining the Justice League, and Jon will be too. So learn to enjoy each other’s company, and have fun. I’ll be patrolling for the next few nights by myself. Go home, Damian.”  
“Fine!” Damian yelled as he whirled around.  
“Damian! Take Jon with you!” Dick shouted after him.  
Damian huffed, and gestured to Jon without turning around. “Come along, Superboy. Let’s go home.”  
“And home is… where, exactly? Cause I could fly us home, and we could play video games and hang out, just like Nightwing suggested! Oohh, or we could ask Alfred if we could eat cookies!” Jon bounced along behind him, ignoring Damian’s obvious fuming.  
“Home is where I direct you. Besides, you were just there. How have you forgotten something so clear so quickly?” Damian snapped.  
“Jeez, sorry. I’m just trying to help. Besides, I… don’t actually remember where your house is, since I was in the Batcave and not in the actual house. Duh.”  
“Let’s just go. If we do not go quickly, Nightwing will drive us home through threats of hugs and talks of his relationships. I do not wish to endure anymore of any of those things, so let us proceed with haste.”  
“Aww, but I love Di- I mean, Nightwing’s hugs!”

Jon burst through Wayne Manor’s front door, a common feat after months of training and hanging out with Damian. “Damian! Mr. Wayne wants you downstairs! He said that if you eat all your food you can build a pillow fort with me!” Jon yelled two seconds after escaping his hug from Dick. Nothing came from upstairs. “Damian? Why are you hiding?” Jon asked, curious. He started to go up the stairs, only for Dick to stop him.  
“Jon, that… might not be the best idea.”  
“Why not? It’s just Dami. We’re friends.”  
“And I’m happy for you guys. It’s just that, well, you know…”  
“Know what?”  
“Damian’s a very private kid. If you went busting into his room without permission it might hurt you guy’s relationship. But if you want, I’ll go up there and get him to build a pillow fort with you. Sound good?” Dick grinned.  
“Yes please!”  
Dick went upstairs to knock on Damian’s door, taking the stairs two at a time. Once he reached his youngest brother’s door, he knocked, shouting, “Damian! Open up! You’re coming downstairs and building a pillow fort with Jon!” No answer. “Damian? C’mon, open up. I’ll kick it down and blame it on you if you don’t open it!” Dick noticed something as he said that. The door was slightly cracked, nearly invisible to the naked eye. “Weird. Damian never leaves his door open.” Dick nudged it open with his foot, and saw that Damian had fallen asleep, his sketchbook lying open besides him. When Dick went closer, he realized Damian was drawing… “Jon? Dami, you have a crush?” The book shut with a snap, and Dick jerked up to see Damian glaring.  
“Grayson. What the fuck are you doing in my room?” Damian snarled, his eyes burning.  
“I was coming to find you. You had a playdate with Jon, remember?”  
“I am not a child; therefore, it is NOT a playdate! Of course I remember, do I look forgetful to you?”  
“Well, you were sleeping.”  
“That is completely besides the point! I had simply… shut my eyes with the intention to awaken shortly after.”  
“So you took a nap.”  
“No!”  
“Whatever, little D. Besides, Jon’s downstairs, and he’s insisting you build a pillow fort with him.”  
“Why would anyone build a fort out of pillows? It provides no defensive strategic abilities whatsoever.”  
Dick sighed. “That’s not the point. It’s for fun.”  
“TT. If he insists.”

“Jon!” Damian shouted, racing towards him, only to be caught by Rex Luthor.   
“C’mon, you brat. Leave him. In fact, just leave in general.”  
“Never!”  
“Fine. Your poor decision. Kill him.” Luthor said, directing his statement towards Shaggy Boy, who had Jon’s unconscious body held up by his cape.  
“Yes boss. Any way in particular?”  
“Here. Use this.” Rex tossed Shaggy Boy a long box, about two feet long and five inches wide. “It’s a Kryptonite blade. Get it out and stab him. I don’t care where. Just make sure he’s dead.”  
“Yes boss.” Shaggy Boy nodded, and left, dragging Superboy along behind him.  
“No!” Damian shouted again, striking at Rex, trying to get through him and get to Jon.  
“Not a chance, Damian. Your partner is dead, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”  
“There is something I can do about it!” Damian snarled, and threw a Batarang at the chestpiece of Rex’s armor. It began to spark, short circuiting his entire suit. As he ran past the broken suit, he heard Rex screaming in rage. He allowed himself a small smirk, then quickly followed the trail that Shaggy Boy had left.  
When he arrived, Jon was laying on the ground, eyes partially open, and his arm at a weird angle. “Say bye bye, Superboy.” Shaggy Boy grinned, and brought the blade down.  
“Not today, asshole!” Damian shouted, and kicked Shaggy Boy in the face, throwing his aim off, and causing the blade to enter Jon’s lung. Jon let out a mix between a gasp and a cry, and passed out again. After tying Shaggy Boy securely to a broken pillar nearby, Damian raced over to Jon, turning his head and checking his pulse. “Pulse but… he’s not breathing.” Damian bent down, and started giving Jon his own breath, after hitting his SOS button on his belt. “Jon, breathe, dammit!” He shouted.  
The Batplane hovered overhead as Damian was shouting. Nightwing dropped down and asked, “Shit… Dami… is he still…?”  
“Barely. He has a pulse, but he’s stopped breathing. I’ve been giving him breath but I… I don’t know…” He shuddered, and resumed giving Jon his breath.  
“C’mon Robin. Let’s get him to a hospital. They can help.”  
After four hours of surgery (Jon), impatient pacing (Damian), and stress eating (Dick), Dr. Thompkins came out of Jon’s room, and walked down to the waiting room. “Ok, Damian, you can see him. But be gentle; I don’t want to be redoing four hours of surgery. Understood?”  
Damian didn’t answer, just ran straight for the door. He slowed when he got close, and gently pushed the door open. “Jon?” He whispered, walking in. Jon was propped up against a couple of pillows, his arm in a sling, and breathing tubes in his nose..  
“Hey, Dami. Did you get your scrapes looked at? If you didn’t, go now so they don’t get infected.”  
Damian glared at him. “Jon, you almost died, and you are lecturing me about my SCRAPES?!”   
“Well, yeah. I mean, you don’t want them to get infected, and stitches suck.”  
“Jon. You do realize that you have stitches right?”  
“Yeah, and they suck. Same with this cast. My super healing hasn’t kicked in, and my arm itches like crazy.” Jon started coughing, and Damian handed him the water glass by his hospital bed.  
“Why hasn’t your super healing kicked in yet?”  
“Beats me. I think it might have something to do with the Kryptonite, I don’t know.”  
Damian dragged a chair over to the side of Jon’s bed and took the water glass from him after he’d downed most of it. “You are sure you are doing alright, despite this overwhelming itch?”  
“I mean, yeah. This itch’s driving me up the wall, but ya know. I’ll survive. Why?”  
Damian flushed. “I’m just checking on you. Here, allow me to see your arm. No, you dolt, the other arm. The broken one.” After Jon handed him his broken arm, Damian pulled out the miniature back scratcher he had smuggled in. “Here, allow me to assist you with your itch.”  
Jon grinned and kissed Damian on the cheek. “Thanks, Dami.”

Damian strutted into the dining room, looking quite pleased with himself. Dick sat by himself, scrolling through something on his phone. “Grayson. I have… something I should tell you.”  
“Sure, li’l D, what’s up?”  
“Jon and I… we are… in a relationship.”  
“Whoa. When did this happen?”  
“It has been in the works for months. Having a three-year partnership with someone tends to reveal bonds that are not easily acknowledged.”  
“Well I’m happy for you. When are you gonna talk to Bruce about this?”  
“Once he gets home from his late-night meeting with the Joker.”  
“Sounds good. Just make sure you actually tell him. Oh, and you know you can come to me with any questions, especially because of my relationship with Jason. I mean, not that it’s totally the same, what with Jon being a Super and all, but ya know. Questions.”  
“Questions?”  
“Duh, Damian, about se--”  
“GRAYSON!”

“Mom? Dad?” Jon poked his head through the door of his house in Hamilton County, Kansas.  
“Jon! You’re finally home! Kon stopped by for dinner. We’re having barbeque!” Lois shouted from the kitchen.  
Jon ran into the kitchen, only to crash straight into his adopted brother, Kon. “Kon!” He shouted, nearly crushing his brother with his hug.  
Kon laughed. “Hey, little brother, how’s it hangin?”  
“I just got back from hanging with Damian! How are you? How’s Tim?”  
“I’m good. Tim’s… happy. Still a little in shock that I’m alive, but happy. He’s running around the globe right now, trying to stop Damian’s evil grandpa.”  
“The weird name Al Ghul? Cool! Can we help?”  
“Sorry bud, Tim insisted that he does it by himself. Trust me, I tried.”  
“Aw, man. It would be fun to have a double Supersons duo date!” They both doubled over laughing at that.  
“How well do you think that would go, Jon? I’m not sure Tim and Damian would do anything but fight.”  
“That’s true. Damian can be hard-headed, but so can Tim!”  
“You’re not wrong. Now, come on, dinner’s ready, and we need to get the table set quick, before Lois comes in and gets us both into trouble.”  
As they ate, Jon spoke up. “Mom, Dad, Kon, there’s… something I have to tell you guys.”  
“Sure, honey, what’s up?”  
“Damian and I… we’ve started dating.”  
Lois and Clark looked at each other with grins on their faces, and Kon gave Jon a big hug. “We’re all so happy for you, Jon. Congrats!”  
“Thanks, Mom, Dad, Kon. Means a lot! Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve finished my food-- delicious, Mom, by the way-- and Damian’s gonna go tell Batman so I should be there! Bye!” Jon sped out of there in the blink of an eye, while Clark stared out after him.  
“Clark! Don’t let him go do that! You know what Batman will do!”  
“No, sweetie, I actually don’t. I wanna see what Batman’s gonna do, if he does anything. Ain’t it a good idea?”  
Kon laughed as Lois slapped Clark’s arm, and stood up to clear his and Jon’s dishes.  
“Better run, brother, Lois has one hell of an arm on her, and I’m not about to get slapped either! See ya!” He yelled, flying out the door, hearing Clark and Lois’ laughter behind him.  
Damian couldn’t breathe. He just stared. Stared at him. At his broken body, lying on the ground. He was Superman, and he was dead. Jon, Damian’s Beloved, was dead. “Damian, move!” He could hear Jon’s shout right before the spear thrown by Rex Luthor hit him, went right through his chest. The spearhead was Kryptonite. Jon never stood a chance. Damian had knelt down to him, tried to do something, anything, but Jon just pushed his hands off of him, and held them. “Damian, I…” He coughed up blood, smiling even through the pain. “I love you. More than you’ll ever know. Just like... I’m your Beloved… You’re mine. I… I love…” Jon’s eyes went dull, and Damain stumbled back, struggling to see past the broken body and the blood on his hands. Damian couldn’t breathe. He just stared. Stared at the blood on his hands, the blood from his Beloved. The only one he’d ever loved. The red stood out plainly against the black of his gloves. His grey cape was stained with the crimson that seemed to completely overtake him. “Beloved… I… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you. I’m sorry I never told you--” He rasped out, his breath coming in sharp gasps. He stopped, his eyes squeezing shut.   
“Batman, come in. Batman, do you read?” Aintisar (his son) shouted through the comms.   
Damian took a deep breath, and spoke. “Yes, Aintisar, I read you.” His breath choked him again, and the blood kept flowing like wine through his fingers as he stared at it.   
“Batman, where’s Superman? We need him over here! I’ve tried calling for him, but he’s not responding! Why isn’t he responding?”  
Damain took a deep breath, and stated as clearly as he could, “Miss Martian, transport to the Watchtower. Transport Nightwing, Superman, and I now.”  
“Father? What’s… What’s going on?” Is the last thing he heard before he was taken up to the Watchtower, his Beloved’s body in his arms.  
When they arrived, Dick stumbled, mid kick when he was transported. “Damian, what the f--. Oh. Oh no. Damian!” He shouted as Damian collapsed, Jon’s body cradled close to his chest.  
“Jonathan, he… He saved me. I was supposed to save him. To not hurt him. To keep him safe. I did. So why did he jump in front of that spear? It should-- it should’ve been me. Why was it not me?” He cried, and Dick knelt down, the lines on his face betraying him.  
“Because that’s just what Supers are like, Dami. Superman-- Clark-- jumped in front of your dad countless times. Even though they were super close friends, that’s just their M.O. They choose their life over the lives of the ones they care for. Jon just chose that. He didn’t think about it in a way that would hurt you, he just thought about keeping you safe.”  
“But it should have been me! I told you, Grayson, I was supposed to keep him safe, not the other way around!” Damian nearly wailed, tears falling from his eyes. He shoved the cowl off to make sure they didn’t gather inside. A medic came to collect the body, but Damian swiped at him, eyes burning. “Keep your filthy hands off of him!” He shouted, eyes welling over again.  
“Damian. We… we have to bury him. I know you’re not ready to let go of him, but you need to. They’ll get him prepared, and you’ll go home, ok?” Dick said gently, reaching for Jon. Damian snarled at him, moving backwards to get away.  
“No! I can’t leave him!”  
“Damian, he’s gone. You’re not going to be leaving him, because you have all the memories of him, remember? Remember that first day you met? Or the time you built a pillow fort? Or…” Grayson’s voice faded into the background as Damian simply remembered. Jon’s laugh, his smile, how his eyes sparkled, the way he cried, the way he looked on their wedding day, and countless other memories flooded his memory, and he let go.

A few days later, Damian got up to say a few words. “Jonathan Kent was… my best friend. I hated him from the beginning, but he somehow managed to worm his way into my life and into my heart. I truly don’t know what I would have done without him. As dull and as boring as this life may now be, with the exception of a few of you, I do know that eventually, I will get to see him again. He was the only one I loved, and while I must continue on the path I am now on, I will see him again someday.” He stepped down from the podium, and slipped a red rose into Jonathan’s crossed hands. With that, Jonathan was buried, and Damian began to cry when the first shovel of dirt was laid on top of Jon’s coffin. Dick and Hayden (Damian and Jon’s son, aka Aintisar) rushed to comfort him, but he batted them away, holding his head high. “Come, Hayden, Grayson. Let us go. We are no longer needed here. Besides, I do believe that Jonathan would be wanting us to celebrate his life, not mourning it.”  
Hayden grinned through his tears, and said “Sounds great, Father. Where are we going? We better not be going to some gelato place, cause that ain’t ice cream. Dad always liked ice cream better.”  
Dick laughed as Damian huffed but smiled. “That he did, Hayden, that he did.”


End file.
